The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

Argider's eyes blinked open to a distorted vision of the palace—her palace, yet not. The grand hall she had known was now twisted and alien, its marble floors fractured and glowing faintly with pulsating veins of light. The gilded walls shimmered as if made of liquid gold, rippling and distorting her reflection. Time itself felt unstable, with fragmented images of past moments flickering in the air like broken memories. A shadowy figure would occasionally flit across the edge of her vision, but whenever she turned, there was nothing.

The eerie silence was broken by a voice, smooth and venomous, echoing from every direction.

"Awake at last, your majesty?" the masked enemy drawled, their tone mocking. "Welcome to your true throne—the crumbling ruins of everything you've built. Tell me, does it feel like power?"

Argider groaned, clutching her head. The air here was thick, pressing down on her chest like an unseen weight. "If you wanted a private audience, you could've just sent a letter," she muttered, her voice shaky but defiant.

A low, sinister chuckle echoed around her. "Always the jester, even as your empire teeters on the edge of ruin. Tell me, Argider, how does it feel to suspect everyone around you? To wonder who will strike first?"

"I don't have time for your riddles," she snapped, straightening her posture despite the growing unease in her chest. "Show yourself, coward."

Instead of answering, the voice fell silent, and the room began to shift. The glowing floor twisted and buckled, and suddenly, Argider was no longer alone. Three figures stood before her, shrouded in shadows that dissipated slowly to reveal her wives—Esmeralda, Faeralys, and Fialova. But something was wrong.

Their eyes burned with an unnatural light, and their expressions were cold, accusatory.

"Do you even trust me?" Esmeralda's projection hissed, stepping forward. Her voice was laced with bitterness, her delicate features twisted in a way that made Argider's chest ache. "You claim to stand by me, yet you doubt me the second things go wrong. Is that what love is to you?"

Argider took a step back. "Esme, this isn't real. I know it's not—"

"Not real?" Esmeralda cut her off, laughing hollowly. "Oh, it's real enough. You've never trusted me. You're just waiting for the day I become my father, aren't you?" Her voice cracked, and her image flickered, like a damaged painting.

Before Argider could respond, Faeralys spoke up, her voice sharp and venomous.

"What kind of empress are you?" she sneered, crossing her arms. "You stumble through every crisis like a blind fool, relying on luck and your wives to clean up your messes. Do you even know how to lead, or are you just playing dress-up in a crown?"

"Faera—"

"No," Faeralys interrupted, her tone cutting. "You're weak, Argider. Weak and unworthy. I don't follow you because I believe in you—I follow you because there's no one else."

Argider's heart sank, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Fialova's projection stepped forward, her usually calm and supportive demeanor replaced by something colder, more distant.

"Do you even realize what we risk for you?" she asked, her voice quiet but sharp. "Every day, we fight for your empire, for your vision, and yet... what happens when you fall? What happens when you lose? Do you think I haven't wondered if I'll be left alone, abandoned to pick up the pieces of your failure?"

Argider's voice cracked as she tried to answer. "You wouldn't be alone. I'd never—"

"Wouldn't I?" Fialova cut her off, her eyes narrowing. "You talk a big game, but how often do you actually think about what we need, Argider? Or are we just here to hold up your empire while you play hero?"

The three projections loomed closer, their words cutting deeper than any blade. Argider stumbled back, clutching her chest as their voices overlapped, each one accusing her, each one filling her with doubt.

"Stop it!" she finally screamed, her voice echoing through the warped palace. "You're not real! This isn't real!"

The projections froze, their eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, there was silence, and then, faintly, a whisper.

"Find the truth... or lose everything."

The ground beneath her shattered like glass, and Argider fell into darkness.

In the wake of the explosion, the palace was a battlefield. Esmeralda leaned against a crumbling pillar, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fended off a pair of masked invaders. Her vines lashed out like serpents, tangling around her enemies and slamming them into the ground. But even as she fought, her mind raced with doubt.

The insignia. Her father's mark. Why was it here? Was it meant to frame her, or was there some deeper game at play?

"Esme!" Fialova's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. The knight appeared, her blade glowing with an ethereal light as she cut down another attacker. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Esmeralda said quickly, though her shaking hands betrayed her. "Where's Faeralys?"

"She's holding the east wing," Fialova replied, but her gaze lingered on Esmeralda, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire

Esmeralda noticed. "You think I'm part of this, don't you?"

Fialova hesitated. "I don't want to believe that. But... the evidence—"

"I would never betray Argider!" Esmeralda snapped, her voice cracking. "You think I'd side with my father after everything he's done to me?"

Before Fialova could respond, a deafening crash echoed through the hall. The two women turned just in time to see Faeralys sprinting toward them, her staff glowing with arcane energy.

"We've got a problem!" she shouted. "The barriers are down, and more are coming!"

Esmeralda clenched her fists, her vines tightening around her enemies. "We can handle them. We have to."

Faeralys gave her a sharp look. "You'd better hope so. Because if you're lying to us, Esme, I swear—"

"Enough!" Fialova cut in, stepping between them. "We don't have time for this. Either we trust each other, or we fall. Argider needs us."

The mention of Argider seemed to ground them all, and for a moment, the tension eased. But the doubt lingered, unspoken and heavy.

"Find the truth... or lose everything."

She pushed herself to her feet, her resolve hardening. She didn't know who she could trust, but one thing was certain: she couldn't let her doubts tear them apart.

"Esme, Faera, Fia," she murmured, her gaze steely. "Hold on. I'll fix this."

Whatever this masked enemy wanted, whatever game they were playing, Argider would face it head-on. But first, she had to find her wives and bring them back together. Because if she couldn't trust them, if they couldn't trust each other, then the empire was already lost.

Argider's breath caught as she entered the throne room. The surreal glow of the dreamlike palace cast elongated shadows across the marble floor, making the grand chamber feel both vast and suffocating. There, seated lazily on the throne meant for her, was the masked enemy. Their posture was casual, but the air around them bristled with tension, a silent promise of danger.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," the figure drawled, their voice dripping with amusement. "You've taken your time, Argider. Or should I say... your majesty?"

Argider gritted her teeth, her heart pounding as she stepped forward. "Enough games. Who are you? What do you want from me?"

The figure tilted their head, as if considering her words, then slowly rose from the throne. Their movements were deliberate, almost theatrical. "Who am I?" they repeated, their voice soft but laced with venom. "I suppose you wouldn't recognize me now. You've had so many lives, haven't you? So many chances to start fresh. But not me."

Argider's eyes narrowed, her mind racing. Something about their voice, their stance—it tugged at a buried memory, a faint whisper from her past life.

"You still don't see it, do you?" the masked figure said, their tone mocking. "Of course you wouldn't. You've always been good at forgetting the people you've hurt."

The words hit like a blow, and Argider froze. The figure raised their hand to their mask, their movements slow and deliberate. With a soft click, the mask fell away, revealing a face that made Argider's blood run cold.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Standing before her was someone she had once trusted implicitly in her past life—a confidant, an ally. But now their face was hardened, their eyes filled with bitterness and fury.

"You," Argider said, her voice trembling. "But... you're supposed to be—"

"Gone?" they interrupted, a cruel smile twisting their lips. "Dead? Oh, I was. But betrayal has a way of bringing people back, doesn't it?"

The weight of their words sank deep into Argider's chest. This wasn't just an attack on her empire—it was personal. And as the masked figure stepped closer, their voice dropped to a deadly whisper.

"I didn't come here for power, Argider. I came here for you. To make you see the cost of your choices and everything you've done."